that I had painted so carefully across my landscape

swift as the wind from the mountain

that dervishes hot and dry in the streets

playing with leaves like she plays with my heart

clumsily but with such panache

that I forgive her and will do so

each time spring rolls round

she knocks

like the rhombic edge of my knee

against the underside of the chessboard

dashing all the squares from their places

with one impetuous diagonal

she is forked lightning when she flashes

one nipple at me in the middle of the railway station

while a hundred backpackers

heap up their prayers in soft cairns

she winks in and out of view

like one side of a spinning penny

heads she loves me tails she’s gone

a world away

she flicks me on my edge and sets me spinning

spinning and shining